It’s a Wonderful (but Weird) Life

I find that Christmases during transitional periods are those which stand out the most.  Those first Christmases when I find myself in a new situation are those that I remember the most perhaps.  My first Christmas away from my parents’ home (and that was my first Christmas in Florida – which compounded the weirdness for sure), my first Christmas with a child, my first Christmas after my divorce, my first Christmas in Massachusetts, and now my first Christmas unemployed and with my son coming back to “visit” over the holiday . . . all landmark Christmases.

This isn’t news, I suppose.  Certainly, I know many people who struggle with the first (and second and so on) Christmas after they lose a parent or significant loved one.

The odd thing to me is that, for some unbeknown reason, I look back on those transitional Christmases with fondness.  I remember fondly the fun in driving around the coastal towns on the Gulf of Mexico looking at the lights and decorations of houses in Florida.  I remember being tickled the first time I saw a house on the water who had two dolphins lit up in blue lights pulling a lighted sled with Santa in it.  And what I love the most about Florida Christmases is when people do a really good job of lighting the palm trees.

My first Christmas with my son, as a parent, was especially memorable because it prompted my son’s very first word.  I put him to bed and went to work decorating the Christmas tree.  The next morning when he woke up – still fairly dark outside – I took him to the living room and lit the tree and he stood there (with his little diaper butt) and looked at it with all the wonder of a 15-month-old baby and said one word:  “Wow”.  I needed nothing else the rest of that holiday season.

My first Christmas after my divorce was decidedly different, but I was determined to make it okay and I’m proud that I did.  I had no family nearby and Spencer’s dad had a fairly large family nearby.  He and I agreed that we do Christmas morning at my house, early, and then after the ceremonial opening of the gifts, Spencer would go with his dad so he could have Christmas day with a big family gathering.  That left me alone.  I had been working a second job at a local movie theater and I volunteered to work that day.  You’d be surprised how many people go to the movies on Christmas day.  I went to work, selling tickets, determined to look each person in the eye and send good Christmas energy to each and every one of them – and it worked!  Every single person was pleasant (at the least) and positively joyful (at the most)!  It was absolutely exhilarating.  When my shift ended, I went home and heated up my little ham steak and some instant mashed potatoes (and probably some orange mac n’ cheese – cuz that’s just big-time comfort food for me) and popped into the VCR (those are those big machines that you put big plastic boxes into and movies play!) my all-time favorite movie, It’s a Wonderful Life.  I had a glass of wine and sunk into a hot bubble bath and tried to revel in my own little Christmas.  I did that for two or three years while I was a single mom and I have to say that I remember them fondly.

My first Christmas here on the Cape was sort of stressful.  New people, new family, new husband, new house . . .  Marty was so thankful to have a new family of his own that I can’t ever forget his emotional response to that holiday season.  It was the first of many (13 now) Cape Cod Christmases and they’ve been really good.  Focus on Spencer for the most part and, more recently, shared with my parents being able to join us, so I sort of feel a full circle sort of Christmas thing.  Growing up, Christmas was HUGE.  I mean, really.  H-U-G-E.  Best time of the year, hands down.  Joy, fun, happy.  Good stuff.  I’m so thankful to have my parents back in my Christmases now.

This year is a bit weird and I’m trying to remember to adjust and appreciate what it brings.  It’s one of those more stressful holiday seasons – what with the economy being so crappy – and it is definitely a transitional Christmas.  You see, my son is no longer inclined to stand in front of the tree and say, “Wow”.  He’s all grown now.  He’s making his own choices and decisions.  He’s out there, in the world, beginning to find his own way.  He’s a great kid.  No.  He’s a great young man.  He makes me laugh (like, really hard, from the gut) all the time.  He’s doing well.  He’s happy and he’s growing and he’s really flourishing in his new environment.  He’s on a really good path.

And, here’s the thing.  What more could a parent ask for?  Knowing your only child is in the right place, doing the right thing, feeling “right” in the world is satisfaction wrapped up in a pretty package with a bow on top.

Thank you, Santa, for what you remind me to remember every year.

Bubble, bubble, boiling double

I’ve never thought “Oooo, wouldn’t it be nice to have a hot tub?”  I’ve thought it would be great to have one of those big luxurious soaking jacuzzi bathtubs, but not so much with the whole hot tub thing.  I always figured it would be one of those things you’d get and you’d be all amped up on it at first and then it would just become some big eyesore that you have to tend to [keeping the water balanced] and pay for [the electricity to keep it heated] and never use until you finally have to pay someone to get the damned thing out of your yard so you can take back possession of the space.

Come on, how many of you have a Bowflex, stationary bike, treadmill or rowing machine (or any number of other crazy pieces of fad exercise equipment) at home that you use to hang clothes on to dry?  Yeah, you know the drill.

When we bought this house last year, it came with a hot tub.  And I thought, “Hmmm, well, that’s kind of nice.”  Was it just sour grapes before?  Don’t know.  Still, I wondered if when the newness wore off, I’d want it the hell out of here.

I still haven’t gotten the hang of maintaining the water balance; however, I’m finding that less is more and it doesn’t really take too, too much to keep it level-ish.  And the cover is heavy and awkward to maneuver but we have plans to replace the cover and an easier way to remove and replace the cover.

Here’s what I’ve learned though.  It’s pretty freaking nice.  It’s a time when my husband and I can come home from our days and convene in the hot tub with no distractions and chat about our day.  And we do that.  We sit, we unwind, we chat, we soak, we dream our dreams together, we plan stuff, we share our gratitude for the good stuff the universe has seen fit to bring our way and then we climb out all wrinkled and pruned. I have also (in one year’s time) made some wonderful memories soaking in the hot tub with my dear friend, Linda (back from her vagabond life in the Islands), in the biggest snow storm of this winter in the dark (unquestionably, one of the coolest things ever), spending hours with the jets off laughing our collective asses off with Donna night after night when she visited, and catching up with no interruptions with Kit on a couple of Wednesday evenings (and she left her towel here for the next time – coming soon).

Ya can’t do that on a silly Bowflex!

So it’s a social thing.  And I like it.  And that’s all I have to say about that.